Prep Vandalized
by Hey Lady Hey
Summary: Derby stayed over late one night at the Glass Jaw Boxing Club. [DerbyJohnny. Prequel to 'The Price of Face' Yaoi]


Title: Prep Vandalized  
Rating: M (Violence, Blood, Language, Non-Con, ooh yeah! ;D)  
Pairing: A surprise.  
Summary: Derby stayed over late at the Glass Jaw Boxing Club. Derby/Surprise, one-shot.  
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Derby sighed, running a hand through his bleach blonde hair and looking down at the watch on his wrist. 12:25. He groaned, rubbing his temples.

"I must look like a common _dredge_. Cleaning up my own place… the indignity of it all." He grumbled to himself, placing his hands on his hips and looking over the office of the Glass Jaw Boxing Club. Spotless. The only way he could stand it. Usually, he would be pleased at such a clean and tidy space, but right now all he held was contempt for this room. The usual maid didn't show up because she was on 'maternity leave'.

Derby frowned more at that. She was _only_ eight months pregnant. She could have kept working until nine months. And, she ought to have at least given them notice beforehand. That day, she had called in, talking about 'labor pains'. Tch.

"Lazy. And to think we pay her minimum wage! The wretch doesn't even deserve that…" Derby continued to mumble under his breath, taking a slow walk around the office to make sure everything was in place. The only thing worse then having to clean up the office by himself was doing a lousy job at it, and he was not going to have Gord fail him in a dust test.

The bar was all in order, bottles of fine whiskey, wine, scotch all sitting in a row.

Clean glasses sat in rows, perfectly aligned. There were a few magazines on boxing sitting in a pile, and he straightened them needlessly as he walked around the full length of the bar. Derby turned off the radio, catching the sound of a door slamming just as he did. He paused, looking around. The place was obviously closed, and none of the Preps would come back to help him, he knew that. Who would visit him at this time of night..?

"It's the wind, you fool. Getting paranoid…" He clucked his tongue, forcing a smile on his face. Silly. Nobody was there, and he was a big boy anyway. There was nothing to fear. Especially the dark, or the boogieman, or any of the other things his father had beaten out of him at a young age. He shook his head, ignoring his darker thoughts and walking towards the last thing that needed to be checked.

Derby approached the trophy cabinet. He slid his hand into the pocket of his LS slate slacks, pulling out the keys. Very carefully, he unlocked the cabinet, sliding the glass doors back. "Hmm… everything is in order." He placed a finger on one of the trophies, sliding it across the base. Of course, no dust. He triumphantly grinned, counting each of the trophies- 21, exactly. Everything was in order, and he slid the glass case closed.

His eye caught something in the glass, and the hair on the back of his neck suddenly rose.

It was a reflection- of a face-

He turned suddenly, catching a shoulder right in the gut. The wind was knocked right out of Derby Harrington, and he was forced violently into the trophy case, the glass shattering on impact and falling like sharp snow to the floor. It was too dark to make out who it was, but all he could tell was that it was a tall, male figure, carrying a plank of wood. He felt some glass nick the back of his head, but didn't really notice much more as a punch was thrown right into his gut.

Derby was caught off-guard, but he was a fighter. He moved to the left, and the hand hit broken glass. His attacker swore, and he took the moment to strike a punch at his face.

"Jesus Christ!" There was blood on Derby's fist, and the attacker stumbled backwards. Derby's breath caught in his throat, and he ran toward the double doors with all the strength he could muster. "You're gonna _pay_ for that, Harrington!"

It was too dark to really see anything clearly, and he plowed into the doors. They should have opened. But they didn't, and he hit solid wood, a pang of sharp pain running through his whole body. How the hell had the attacker gotten the bars down that quietly?!

Something hit his side, _hard_, and Derby crumpled with a cry, coughing and wheezing. A boot pushed him down onto his stomach, and he tried to roll out from under it. Another hit from the wooden board, this time on his back, had pain blooming like flowers through his body, and he stopped, yelling in pain.

Derby yelped, gloved hands threading through his bleach blonde hair and tugging him up to his knees. "G-get off me!" His heart pounded in his ears. "I swear to god, I will _sue_ you if you don't-"

"Don't _what_, trust-fund fairy?"

It was then Derby realized whose voice that was. He had no chance to voice it, though, as he was yanked hard by his hair, eliciting a pitiful yelp of pain as he was tossed against the side of the bar like a rag doll.

His attacker stalked forward, grabbing the table lamp and jerking the tassel. It spread only a meager light over the office, but it was enough to confirm Derby's suspicions.

"So," Johnny stood straight, holding the wooden plank over his shoulder. His shirt was red-white, and blood was still trickling from his broken nose. "You gonna fight anymore, or do I have to knock a few teeth out, Harrington?"

"Dirty pauper! Of course, you had to sneak up on me-"

Johnny let out a lazy laugh, and it sent chills down Derby's spine. He glared down at him, walking over to wear Derby sat, still trying to catch his breath and dignity.

Derby's head throbbed, and he wondered dully if a piece of glass might have gotten into his head.

Johnny reached for Derby's collar, and he immediately struck out at the greaser, letting out a bestial snarl. Johnny took the blow with a grunt, hauling Harrington up to his feet. "Get your filthy hands off of me, you greasy damnation!" Johnny shoved him roughly against the bar, the wooden plank held high and ready to strike down on the prep's head.

"I swear to god, Harrington, I'll bust you up faster then your Daddy does, so shut your god damned mouth."

Derby opened his mouth, before closing it, glaring at Johnny venomously as he panted heavily. He grit his teeth, setting his jaw in a grimace as another flare of pain came from his head. "What do you _want_, Vincent?" He asked slowly, eyeing the wooden plank. That could easily knock out a few teeth.

Johnny frowned, waving the plank around in small circles above his head. "Why are you here, Harrington? Shouldn't you and your boyfriends be at the Harrington house havin' a pillow fight?"

Derby sneered at him, cocking his head. "My, you're stupid, aren't you? My father _owns_ this building, you dolt. I was merely cleaning up around the office…" He took a quick glance over at the trophy cabinet, then back to him. "When you had to crawl in here so you could muck everything up."

Johnny clutched the plank harder. "Oh, shut up, Harrington!" He shook the boy, and Derby grabbed Johnny's hand, digging his fingers into the gloves.

"Don't shake me pauper-!"

It came down faster then he could have realized, and he was smacked across the face with the plank, his head snapping to the side from the force. If it had been a little harder, there would have been a tooth plus the metallic tang that he tasted in his mouth.

Derby turned his head to look at Johnny, that condescending look gone, replaced by shock. His hand gripped the others, but it was loose, just hanging there.

Johnny smirked.

"I told ya." His face suddenly changed back to that frown, and he gripped Derby's auqaberry vest a little tighter. "So, who the hell squealed? Who told you we were comin' tonight?"

The 'we' shook Derby to his core, but he hid it like a true Harrington. If there were more then one of the greasers here, he was royally fucked, and so was the whole building. But he couldn't see any of them in the office, so thankfully they were waiting downstairs…

"'Squealed'?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. His tongue felt a bit numb, and Derby realized that he must have bit it when he was slapped. "Nobody squealed. It's the truth. Our maid called out sick at the last moment."

Johnny glared at him. Ah, the greaser and his bouts of unfounded paranoia. "Y'sure? I bet you're lying, you stupid shmuck. Thinkin' you can lie to Johnny Vincent- Nobody lies to Johnny Vincent, you got me!" He gave Derby a small shake. And then his eyes widened slightly.

Johnny pressed Derby harder against the bar. He hissed in pain as the greaser's hip dug into his. "Was it _Gord_? That fairy?" The name was spoken with pure venom. "Did he get the information out of Lola? My Lola? 'Cause nobody sweet talks my slut of a girl except Johnny V., do you hear that?!"

Derby had to struggle not to flinch as Johnny yelled in his face. He was truly testing his patience, and even with the promise of permanently disfiguring his pretty face looming above his head, he was tempted to punch the greaser.

"You fool, I told you!" Derby barked, nearly gnashing his teeth in frustration. "I was here because I had to _clean_. And Gord does not 'sweet talk' Lola." Johnny's eyes narrowed, but Derby kept talking. "All he does is give the cheap slut a few flowers, and she lets him cop a feel when Hopkins doesn't feel like entertaining! Now let me go!"

Johnny leaned forward suddenly, nearly nose-to-nose with Derby. The preppy held his ground, not moving back an inch. "What'd you call my queen, Harrington? 'Cause if it's something nasty, it's not gonna speak well for your face."

Derby smirked, spitting in Johnny's face.

Johnny yelled, dropping the board to wipe his face. Derby took advantage of the situation, using the full weight of his body to tackle him to the ground. They both fell back, Johnny keeping a tight grip on his vest as he fell and twisting so that the preppy was under him.

The floor was wooden and _hard_, and pain shook through them both, though it was more painful for Derby, who took the full brunt _and_ the weight of Johnny Vincent. It took a few seconds for the greaser to get his brain together, and he quickly grabbed the other's hands, wrestling them above his head.

Derby growled and bucked up, trying to throw the heavier greaser off of him. Johnny adjusted his legs so that they held down the prep's, using his bigger size to his advantage.

Derby tried to buck Johnny off again, but to no avail. Johnny had him pinned like a butterfly, his large hand holding both of Derby's wrists down.

"Nice try, Harrington." He leaned down, prodding the prep's chest. "But money don't buy smarts." He was breathing hard, almost as hard as Derby. The blood had stopped dripping out of his nose, and had caked, dark red and menacing.

"You-!" He let out a growl unbefitting a Harrington, bucking his hips again. Johnny smirked, running his free hand through his hair. (Amazingly, it was still perfect. Derby's platinum blonde did not hold up as well.) Derby was trapped, and struggle as he might; he knew that the greaser would not let him go easily.

"So, Harrington… why don't you tell me, who is the best lookin' clique leader?" Johnny asked, tilting his head and smiling. Derby grinned savagely.

"Jimmy."

Johnny's open hand came across Derby's face, a sharp sound resounding as flesh met leather. It stung sharply, and the faint red mark nearly brought tears to the preppie's eyes. He grit his teeth, clinging onto his resolve.

"Russel-"

Another, harder slap sent his head jerking, and he let out an embarrassing, painful cry. Johnny smirked, looming above him like some specter of hate. "Say again, Harrington?"

"Johnny Vincent…" He gasped, trying to keep back the tears. Johnny's face broke out into a full-fledged grin, and he gripped Derby's chin with his bare hand, forcing him to look the greaser in the eye.

"Awww, that's so sweet of you, suga'pie…" Johnny said sweetly, enjoying the look of unabashed humility on Derby's face. It was priceless, and he could feel goose bumps rise on his skin. He had humbled Derby Harrington. The adrenaline rush from just two words made his breath come out fast.

"And," His gloved hand let go of Derby's chin, tracing down his neck and tapping his Adams apple. It bobbed franticly as he swallowed, trying to stretch away from Johnny's touch.

"Vincent-"

"Why am I so damn handsome, Harrington? I'm curious to know what founded this crush of yours. I mean, I'm so flattered!" He chuckled low in his throat, watching Derby's face struggle to find that usual solid resolve... "I thought you were only inta _Biff_."

"Get off me, Vincent!" Derby shrieked, starting to full-out struggle. It was pointless, but the panic was rising in his throat and he felt so hopeless as this greaser teased him. Johnny's hand smacked him across the face, once, twice, making Derby gasp indignantly, real tears springing in the corners of his eyes.

"Answer me, Harrington!"

"Ah…" Derby was shaking, letting his breath out in short huffs, threatening to start sobbing. "Your… your hair," He grit his teeth, looking away. "And your charming looks, and your _charming _personality."

Johnny didn't seem to be paying attention, and Derby only noticed that the greaser was leaning down out of the corner of his eye until it was too late. There were lips on his neck, right over his Adams apple, and he couldn't help but swallow, his breath catching in his throat.

Johnny smiled, letting his teeth scrape over his neck. It was exhilarating; the pure fear that was pounding through him. He bit down, earning a whimper from Derby. Johnny moved his lips down, sucking hard on his neck. He could feel the preppie's feet move under his legs. (His _toes_ were curling, oh god, Johnny felt his heart flutter, his fuckin' toes curled...)

He pulled away, looking down at the red welt that had blossomed there. His looked up to Derby.

"What are you doing, you peasant?" He rasped, his voice suddenly hoarse. He licked his lips nervously, his eyes flitting from side to side.

Johnny smiled, pressing his face against Derby's their noses bumping. The prep seemed to freeze, spooked like a deer and not knowing what to do once in the headlights. The kiss, feather light, woke him up. And Derby bit down on Johnny's lip, _hard_, tasting metal and hearing a growl escape Vincent.

Johnny crushed his lips down on Derby's, rough and violent. Derby shrieked in rage, but it was muffled under lips and teeth. His own lip was nipped, and he fought Johnny, fought him as he forcefully pushed his tongue into his mouth, violating him like a slut. His teeth scraped his tongue, and he let out another yell.

His hips bucked up, and his leg moved slightly from under Johnny. The greaser took that as a welcome, pushing his leg in between Derby's. The prep let out another yell, and Johnny's blood pumped faster.

"Ahhh-" Derby jerked his head away, nearly biting Johnny's upper lip off in the process. He was panting hard, shaking. "You… you _vermin_!" He growled and bucked, and for once met something: Johnny's hips. The greaser grinned, and Derby's flushed face paled considerably.

"Aw, you're just like Lola, Harrington. Just after a few kisses, and already you're wantin' it." Johnny grinded his hips against Derby, and the preppy grit his teeth in a grimace, squeezing his eyes shut as teeth nibbled his lower lip. "Like a… ah, you said slut, didn't you? A cheap slut."

Derby gasped slightly when Johnny hit the right spot, his hips rocking a certain way so that even through all the fabric, a pang of pleasure shook through him. It was a weakness.

Johnny knew it. He smiled.

The belt was auqaberry leather, black with an overly shined silver buckle. It was thrown onto the floor carelessly. Pants, worth more then a month's worth of money for Johnny, were jerked down. The boxers were auqaberry. Silk.

Silk boxers and leather gloves- Johnny grabbed Derby's groin. He let out a displeased cry, but arched all the same, hissing as the greaser rubbed through the fine fabric. The heat was engulfing, and Derby tried not to get lost in it. When the hand slipped under fabric, grabbing flesh in a cool grip, he bucked and let out a groan.

Johnny's strokes were firm, but languid. He was concentrating more on the look of Derby's face. His eyes were screwed shut; his face flushed a light tinge of red. That mouth… lips swollen, gasping, needy pants escaping him.

Johnny smiled, _squeezed_, and earned a moan.

Johnny paused, slipping his hand out of Derby's boxers. The prep panted, gasped, wondering why his body was betraying himself to this grease ball, this low-income bastard.

His wrists were let go, and Johnny quickly slipped his pants down. Plain, cotton boxers. He looked down at Derby, smirking.

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Okay, now it's time to pick the ending.;D If you like Greasers more, continue reading. If you like the Preppies more, skip down to the line of...dashes and continue reading there.

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Derby reeled back for a punch, and Johnny grabbed his fist, pushing it down against the ground, using his other hand to grab the prep's. They struggled- squirming, tugging, and seeing who would win.

The prep jerked his hand, but Johnny had a death grip, crushing both of his wrists together with one hand. Derby's eyes widened, and he yelled, trying to move out from under him as hard as he could.

Johnny growled, striking Derby across the face. He cried out, falling still save for his heaving chest. Vincent smiled, stroking the red mark that crossed the prep's face.

He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to jerk away from the painful touch.

"I think it's gonna bruise, Harrington. Can't wait to see you all black 'n blue…" He said absently, tapping his finger against the abused flesh. Derby refused to make a noise, his jaw absolutely rigid.

Can't have his jaw like that, could he now? He'd get lockjaw, or something like that. Johnny pressed his hips against Harrington. There was no noise; his eyes were cold, and he looked off to the side.

This wasn't worth it if he couldn't get an affect from Derby. He reached down, rubbing the front of the silk boxers. Derby's lips parted slightly, taking in a very slight breath. It was let out harshly as Johnny took his cock out of his boxers, squeezing. That god damn _leather._

Johnny squeezed his length, running a thumb over the tip of his shaft. He leaned his face close to Derby's, basking in the small pants, the way his eyelids fluttered when his hands seemed to stroke him the right way.

He smiled, pulling himself out of his pants. "So, Derby…" He leaned his face forward, sucking on his bottom lip and grinding into the prep. Skin rubbed against skin, and Johnny shuddered, trying his best to stay collected, even as his breath came out as hard as Harrington's. "Don'tcha like bein' treated like a slut?"

Derby groaned as Johnny started to thrust against him, their hips grinding, the greaser's breath coming out short and hard against his mouth. "Being my bitch?"

"F-fuck you, Vincent." He gasped, arching up to meet each thrust. His face was flushed, his hair messy. Johnny's pace quickened, his face stretching into a grin. _He_ was the master in this, and Harrington was just coming along for the ride.

The thrusts were hard and fast, skin becoming slick with sweat. Each touch was met with small whimpers and groans from both sides. Johnny's hair was frizzy from the sweat, and the whimpers that escaped Derby's mouth were priceless.

Johnny kissed Derby, biting onto his lower lip hard as he came. He could taste blood, and the prep groaned against his mouth, arching and coming.

They laid there, panting heavily, faces flushed and hair messy. Derby realized that his legs were going numb under Johnny, and that his wrists were cramped under his hands. He frowned, squirming and rattling the greaser from his post-sex glow. Johnny growled, letting go of Derby's wrists.

The sudden freedom was met with a fist to the nose, and Johnny screamed as Harrington's fist crunched bone and truly broke it. Blood splattered, and he crawled off of Derby quickly, staggering to his feet and nearly losing his balance when he tripped over the pants around his ankles.

"I won." Johnny said sullenly, clutching his nose. Derby shook his head, tucking his sticky self back into his boxers and pulling his pants back up as he got to his feet. He clenched his fists.

Though he tried, he didn't seem to look as threatening as before to Johnny Vincent. "Get out, you pauper, before I call the cops." He snarled.

Johnny smirked, hitching his pants up. "Fine." He walked toward the door opposite of Derby, fishing a thin-toothed comb from his pocket. He ran it through his hair as he pushed the door open, not looking back at Harrington.

The boy kept a steely resolve for a few seconds as he listened to Johnny leave the Glass Jaw Boxing Club. When the door slammed closed, he felt his knees tremble, and he leaned against the bar, feeling weak.

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The punch that landed in his face was terribly satisfying, making a sick crack.

Johnny yelled, rolling off of Harrington. Derby quickly scrambled to his knees; grabbing the wooden plank the greaser had discarded earlier, he stumbled to his feet, his pants around his knees.

Johnny rolled onto his back, just in time to see the board smack him upside the face and the savage, slightly crazed grin of Derby Harrington. The taste of blood bursted into his mouth, and he felt a molar pop loose. He coughed, rolling onto his stomach, spitting out blood and teeth onto the fancy mahogany floor.

The board hit his back, again, again, and he was flat on his stomach, wheezing and yelling and crying out in pain.

"Who's the best looking clique leader, Vincent?! Do tell! Do tell!" He snarled, pulling back the board and aiming for his head. It fell short- Johnny's leg flailed out, and he swept Derby right over. Luckily, he stuck his hands out in time, and managed not to crack his face onto the hard floor. Wheezing slightly, he got to his feet, picking the wooden board up again. Johnny started to struggle to stand, but it was stopped by a sharp kick to the side that left him gasping.

"Vincent? Get the bloody hell out of my boxing club before I call the cops." Derby growled, pushing Johnny over onto his back with his foot. The greaser nodded numbly. "And if you so much as ever set a foot in here again, I'll beat you until you can't breath." Johnny nodded, his chest heaving.

He rolled out from under the prep's foot, scrambling to his feet. He backed up towards the opposite door, keeping an eye on Derby as he walked toward the door.

"Have a nice night, oil slick." Derby said smugly. Johnny gave him a venomous look, turning and pushing out the door.

The wooden plank dropped, and Harrington clutched the back of his head, wincing when his fingers were covered with sticky blood. This little skirmish was a little too close for comfort.

"Well, daddy always said… keep your friends close, and your enemies closer..."

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Critiques encouraged! I had way too much fun writing the fighting scenes. Derby and Johnny just have so much hate for each other. ;D And they were just so fun to write, I had to include both endings. Thanks for reading, and please review! I reply! Also, check out my other Bully stories if you have the chance.


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